


Here

by LadyBoltonToYou



Category: You Were Never Really Here (2017)
Genre: F/M, Joaquin Phoenix - Freeform, Kidnapping, Sex Trafficking, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 08:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21353407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBoltonToYou/pseuds/LadyBoltonToYou
Summary: The reader is saved from potential sex trafficking by Joe. She's safe for a while, or, at least until they come back.
Relationships: Joe/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 155





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A special request for some Joe content by one of my favorite readers. I hope you enjoy!

He was going to kill himself.

He had the barrel of the gun under his chin and everything. He didn’t write a note, though. There would be no one to read it. No one but the police. And they wouldn’t care. So why bother? Why bother writing down your troubles, your woes, all the pent up pain and anger, if it was going to be read by someone who couldn’t care any less? 

One bullet. 

For hours on end, he toyed with that one bullet, rolling it between his weathered fingers, pressing the warmed brass against his lips. It felt so small, it was a 9mm, Winchester. Stamped on the bottom of the shell were the letters ‘W.I.N’, along with ‘9mm LUGER’. 

The shells had never felt so foreign to him. For so long he’d felt like they were one of his closest friends, them and his Glock. But now that he sat on the floor with the intent of ending his life, those two things seemed like strangers. 

When you’re in a position like this everything feels different. The walls, the paintings hung on the walls, it’s not the same. He looked at everything differently, as if he was in a stranger's room. Of course, he wasn’t, he was in his room, sitting on the floor in front of his bed.

Joe was never one to put something off. So why couldn’t he do it?

He closed his eyes and leaned back against his bed. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it. You know that feeling when something just doesn’t feel right? Like something bad is about to happen, but you don’t know what?

That’s how he felt. 

He loaded a full clip, slipping it into his Glock. Something was definitely wrong, and every second that passed made the weight on his chest feel heavier. The room was too small, too hot, he had to leave, and now.

Throwing on his jacket and grabbing his hat from his dresser, he left the house. 

It was cold outside. Autumn was parting, the last of the leaves drifting down from the trees planted by the city. They were one of the only nice things to look at, and now they were becoming bare. It felt ironic. The one time Joe could use the sight of a pretty green tree, it was anything but. He turned away from the rows that were carefully planned and made his way down the street, hands in his pockets, gun in its holster on his waist.

The fresh air felt nice. Even though it smelt like exhaust and fried food, it was nice. His house was too cramped, he couldn’t breathe in there. Outside was different. Maybe he was claustrophobic, it would explain a lot. 

He took a walk around the city. It was a Monday night, so most people were at home relaxing after work. He preferred it that way, fewer people on the sidewalk. He could think in peace, or rather, not think in peace. That’s what he had come outside for, right? To clear his head, since he didn’t have the nerve to kill himself.

The closer he neared the heart of the city, the better he felt. Not necessarily better, just less worse. Thoughts of suicide still plagued his mind but he didn’t feel as suffocated as before. He was calm. Still empty and drained, but calm.

Each alley he passed contrasted greatly with the glamour of city life. Some were empty and dark, some contained a homeless person or two. The sight was sobering. You could sometimes forget how awful the world can be, but the moment you pass one of those alleyways you get hit with the fact that people out there are struggling to survive. 

One particular alley he passed caused him to falter. It was darker than the others, not too dark that he couldn’t see someone walking down it though. 

“Here, kitty!” It was the voice of a woman, he could barely see the outline of your form as you slowly walked deeper into the obvious trap. 

He squinted and watched, looking for the people who were undoubtedly waiting to jump out and grab you. It was just so dark.

And then it happened. Two men behind a dumpster bolted out just as you passed by, one of them injecting Etorphine into your neck and the other helped restrain you with a hand over your mouth. A car on the other end of the alley pulled up, slamming on the brakes so hard the tires screeched. 

You could hear them talking with each other, a few words. 

“Hurry up!”

“Shut up and hold her!”

As you twisted and fought in their grasp you were able to see him, Joe. He was reaching for his gun. Maybe he would save you, you thought, slowly slipping from consciousness and falling limp in their arms.

These days were supposed to be behind him. 

But there he was, running down the alley as fast as his feet would carry him. It all happened so fast, like it always did. Joe found that the easiest part of killing someone was the act itself. The adrenaline clouded his mind, it blinded him to everything else, even the passage of time. 

After he had shot the first two men he ran to the car, but it was already taking off. A cheap neon light advertising a Chinese restaurant illuminated their license plate just enough. He’d remember that.

The kitten the men had used was still there, they had it in one of those traps you’d set outside to trap raccoons and opossums. It looked scared beyond belief, shaking in its fur, eyes so wide he could see his face reflected in them, even in the dark alley.

Joe took you and the kitten back to his place, taking the darker way through the city to avoid being seen. He didn’t have time to hide the bodies, plus, he knew the people they worked for would most likely have been watching. They could hide them themselves, it would be a pity for the police to find their men, it was quite obvious what they were doing. Two well-dressed men in an alley? Although Joe had taken the needle they used on you, he didn’t want your DNA left there, without a doubt they had the Etorphine bottle in their pockets. 

Once he was inside he set the metal crate on the floor in the kitchen and went to tend to you. 

He checked your purse for identification. (Y/N) (Y/L/N). The picture on the card was shockingly flattering, normally people looked their worst on their driver's license or ID. You looked gorgeous. A small, almost teasing smile, a slightly raised brow, he wouldn’t be surprised if you were looking at someone you loved while the picture was taken. An expression that genuine was hard to fake. Unless you were a model.

Joe looked at your passed out form on his bed. You could be a model. Even in your current state, knocked out cold, you still looked ethereal.

There was little he could do for you besides clean you up, in the struggle your lip had been slightly busted and you had blood on your neck from the needle. The skin around it was red and swollen, they must have been more than rough with you.

He set out a glass of water, some over the counter pain medicine, a granola bar, and an apple. He knew when you woke up you’d be thirsty, but you’d definitely be too scared and confused to bother with the food. It was mostly a gesture. 

For the three hours you were knocked out, he busied himself with the kitten. It was a scrawny and timid little thing, it’s fur a mix of black, grey, and white, just like Joe’s beard. It took a while to calm down, as soon as he let it out from the trap it launched itself under his armchair. Joe had slipped a can of tuna under the chair and after a while, he heard it finally start eating. 

Poor thing. He wondered where it came from. Maybe the men stole it away from its mother. Maybe they kept a few kittens around to lure in women with kind hearts. There were so many sick possibilities, he tried not to think of them all.

“You wanna come out now?” He was on his knees in front of the armchair, peeking under to see if the cat was still there. It was, and so was the empty can of tuna. “It’s okay.” He murmured, reaching out his hand to test the waters. “My name’s Joe.” 

The kitten flinched away from his hand, crawling backward. 

He didn’t want to make it feel trapped, so he stood up and gave it some space.

Just like he had done countless times before.

For the last hour you were unconscious he cleaned his guns. 

Upstairs, he heard vomiting, and before he could get to the staircase he heard you stumbling around. When he walked around the corner he found you struggling to get off your knees, halfway out of the bathroom. 

Getting you to calm down was nearly impossible. He couldn’t blame you one bit, one minute you were being kidnapped and the other you woke up in a strange place with a man you’d never seen before.

“I need you to breathe. Sit down, they gave you a dose of etorphine. You need to let it fully wear off before you do anything else.” He found himself sitting with you on the bed, explaining what had happened and who he was.

“My name’s Joe.” He made sure to look into your eyes as he spoke, trying to come off as truthful and trusting as possible. “You’re going to be okay, I promise. As soon as you’re better, I’ll take you home.”

There were tears in your eyes, his heart ached when he saw you struggle to make sense of everything. No matter how many times he’d done this, the hardest part was explaining. You got off lucky, you were luckier than the others. You had narrowly escaped one of the worst fates anyone could ever face. But it was still hard for him to watch as you processed all the emotions at once.

These days were supposed to be behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

The last thing you remembered was seeing a man reaching for his gun. 

It was hard for you to get up. You had slowly regained consciousness thirty minutes prior to movement. It felt like the worst kind of sleep paralysis you could imagine, because it wasn’t a shadow created by your mind you were afraid of, it was the two men that had jumped you.

Did the man save you? Or, maybe he was one of them? Maybe he was sicker than them? Your thoughts raced as you tried desperately to move. You had managed to open your eyes, that was a good start. 

Toes and fingers. That was your golden rule for those times when you couldn’t fully wake up. If you could manage to move your toes or fingers, you could break free. You’d only had a few instances where you needed that piece of knowledge, but each time it saved you. Would it save you now?

Your brain wouldn’t send the signals. Either that or the sedative still had you tight in its grasp. What had they used to knock you out? You’d never felt anything like that before. You’d used sleep aids a few times but nothing had ever made you feel so awful and groggy.

It turned out you didn’t need to wiggle your toes, because a wave of sudden nausea hit you so hard it jolted life back into your body. You launched yourself to your feet, bursting into the bathroom inside the bedroom. You puked everything in your stomach, which was nothing but bile. You hadn’t eaten in five hours. 

Only then, when you were on your hands and knees in front of the toilet, did you realize how thirsty you were, and how badly your head hurt. But that didn’t matter now, you had to figure out where you were, and you needed to escape.

You made your way out of the bathroom, gripping on the sides of the wall for support. 

That’s when you saw him. 

It took a moment to remember. The first thought you had was that he was one of the men who had attacked you in the alley. You tried to scream but all that came out was a weak moan. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” He slowly approached you, leaning down so he was at a level closer to you. “You’re safe.”

You didn’t trust him. You tried to get away, only succeeding in falling back on your ass. “Don’t…” You slurred, your vision was still blurry and when you fell backward the room started to spin. You dry heaved for a bit and that’s when he helped you up onto the bed.

He explained who he was and you finally made the connection. 

“You were the guy,” You struggled to speak clearly, your words jumbled together. “I saw you, in the alley. You had a gun.”

Joe nodded as you spoke, letting you talk. When you finished he grabbed the glass of water on the bedside table. “Here, small sips.”

You resisted the urge to gulp it down, but when you felt the first sip go down your throat it was impossible not to drink more.

“Hey, no, you’ll just get sick.” Joe took the glass back from you, causing the sip you had in your mouth to spill from your mouth. “You need to take it easy.”

“Who are you? Why were you there?” You sputtered and wiped the water from your chin in a sloppy motion. 

He sighed and sat back, taking his hat off. He looked like he was in his late thirties, he had black hair but his beard was a mix of black, grey and white. The image of him cleared up the longer you stared at him and you saw this look in his eyes, it was obvious he had been dealing with stuff like this for a long time. He had the look of someone who had seen people die, and possibly had killed a few himself. 

The gun.

“Did you kill them?” Your voice was a whisper now. 

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate to answer that question. It was an easy question. 

“You shot them? How?” Maybe it was wrong, considering your current state, but you wanted to know that they were dead without a doubt. 

His brows crinkled as he processed your question, but he answered. “The man who sedated you, I shot him in the back of the head.” With his hand he showed where he shot him, right at the base of the skull, barrel pointed upwards. “And the other…” His fingers, still acting as the gun, went right between his eyebrows.

You nodded and looked away from him, swallowing. “Good. So, who are you, and why were you there?”

“I was taking a walk. It was a coincidence.” 

“How do you know what they drugged me with, then?”

Joe shook his head, wondering how you could be so blatantly stubborn after what just happened to you. “I used to be a hired gun. I would save girls from men like the ones who tried to take you.”

“Why’d you stop?” You couldn’t help but be curious, plus, you needed as much information on him as possible for when you went to the cops. 

Judging by the way his face changed you guessed you asked the wrong question. He stood up from the bed, taking his hat with him. “I’ll take you home in an hour. If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.” And on that note, he walked out and left you to your own devices.

If Joe was telling the truth, then you were safe. You didn’t need to worry about him. You could lay down, maybe try to eat, drink more water, and get better. Then he would take you home in an hour and everything would be okay.

But you didn’t trust him enough to believe he was telling the truth. For all you knew he didn’t kill those men and he was waiting for them to show back up and take you away. He could have drugged your water. 

“Oh god.” You breathed, looking to the half-empty glass of water. Why did you drink that? Did your common sense fail you? 

You stood up and made your way to the door, your legs were much steadier now. Down the hall, you could see the stairs. Hopefully, Joe wouldn’t be too close by. 

As fate would have it, he wasn’t anywhere you could see. It was easy, way too easy. You were beginning to think you were lucky when you reached for the door handle.

Until the door was kicked open, sending you falling flat on your back. 

“Don’t fucking move.”

A man dressed in business attire stood over you with a pistol trained on your face. You’d never seen him before in your life. So why was he threatening you? 

Joe. He had said he used to be a hired gun.

“Please, I don’t even know him, I just want to go home.” Begging was futile and you knew it, but it was against human nature not to try. You hadn’t realized it until that very moment, but, as corny as it sounded, you had so much to live for.

“Where is he?” He asked as three other men filed through the door behind him. 

“Downstairs, somewhere, I don’t know.” The way you spoke sounded so pathetic, even to you. You were ratting out the man who’d just saved your life. 

Three gunshots. 

The man who’d been asking you questions grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and yanked you to your feet, holding you against him with the barrel of his gun jammed to your temple. 

“Let her go.” You’d never been happier to see someone. Joe stood in front of you, blood coating the side of his face in splatters. He had a gun of his own, it too had traces of blood on it. 

“I don’t think so. I’m going to take her with me.” The original plan was to kill Joe and leave, but with the only backup he had now dead, he needed leverage to make it out alive. And you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

“Joe.” You locked teary eyes with him, shaking your head. He looked like he was in physical pain watching everything unfold, helpless. If he made one wrong move you’d be dead. “No, please, no!” At this point, you were being torn out of the house, grabbing the doorway in a feeble attempt to stay. “Joe!”

** _"Joe!"_ **


	3. Chapter 3

There was nothing he could do but watch as the girl he had just saved was taken away from him, her fingers ripped away from his doorway. The familiarity of it was too strong and too soon, he actually had to take a moment to regain his bearings. What was the plan? What was his plan?

He bolted out the front door, eyes landing on a triple-black Cadillac. The same type of car that was going to be the get-away vehicle for you earlier that night. He looked at the license plate, it was the same. They must have seen his face. 

He should have known this would happen. He watched the car drive away and cursed himself, darting back inside to get his keys. 

Time went by painfully fast as he ran through his house in what felt like slow motion, grabbing his keys and a box of shells. He had put the kitten in the downstairs bathroom with a fresh can of tuna and a bowl of water earlier, so it would be fine for a while. Even though that was the last thing on his mind.

As he expected, when he was finally in his car and driving, the Cadillac was nowhere to be seen. He drove around the city for hours, only quitting when the sun came up.

Even though Joe had given up on trying to follow the car, he wasn’t giving up on finding you. He needed to find you another way, it would take a lot longer but it was his only option at that point.

“I thought you were retired?” 

That very morning he had gone to see James Donahue, a man who had worked with his previous handler McCleary. He was an older man, maybe fifty-five, who normally dealt in large scale undercover operations. He didn’t deal with one man jobs the way McCleary did, so Joe had only met him in passing. But he was the only person Joe could think of who could find you, so here he was.

“I was.” The words felt bitter in his mouth. “I am. This isn’t a job, there’s no money.”

“Oh?” Donahue raised his brows, raising his scotch glass to his lips. He took his time taking a sip, partaking in the game of power-play Joe was far too familiar with. “It’s personal, then?”

“Can you help me, or not?” He couldn’t help but wonder how the hell he could be drinking at such an early hour. The sun had just come up.

Donahue licked his lips and leaned forward in his leather chair, elbows on his knees, hands folded under his chin. Joe wanted nothing more than to grab him by his neck and start making demands. Sadly, that would get him nowhere. So he was forced to act civil and be patient. “It’ll cost you.”

“Jesus.”

“You know it is, don’t pretend like you don’t.” His voice was harsh now, defending himself. “Just give me a day and I’ll let you know what I find.”

“How much?”

Donahue hesitated, thinking for a moment. “For you, five grand.”

In his line of work, Joe had earned enough in the years to make himself comfortable. But the number still made him cringe. “Fine.” He was prepared for Donahue to ask him for money. He reached in the bag he’d brought, counting out what he needed. “Here.” He slapped the money on the small glass table next to Donahue’s chair, nearly knocking the glass of scotch from it. “Find out everything you can. Call me as soon as you do.”

“It’ll be worth your troubles,” Donahue said as Joe walked out the door, shamelessly counting the money. “I don’t disappoint.”

He was true to his words.

The next day, Joe got a call while he was repairing his door. In the past twenty-four hours, he’d gotten five hours of sleep, more than he expected. To make use of the rest of his waking hours he’d gone to the local pet shop and bought a few cans of cat food, medicine for the kitten, a flea collar and a small toy. He spent as much time as he could occupied to keep from going crazy. After mixing the medicine in the wet cat food he started working on his door.

He dropped what he was doing, including the screwdriver, and picked the phone up.

“Hello?” 

“Is this Joe?”

“Yes.”

“9032 New Saddle Court.” Dial tone.

Joe wrote down the address as quickly as possible, hoping he remembered everything correctly. The door could wait. As long as it shut and locked behind him, he was happy. 

Flashbacks of Nina ran through his mind as he drove through the traffic. A girl held prisoner by the Governor. A girl who happened to be the daughter of the State Senator. If someone of such high status had been done so wrong, what would happen to someone like you? You weren’t the daughter of a politician, you had no one in high power looking for you. Joe was your only hope.

The realization made him drive faster. 


	4. Chapter 4

You’d been thrown into the trunk of a car and taken away. This is what Joe had saved you from before, he killed two men to save you from it. And somehow, it had all been for nothing. You still ended up in the trunk of a car on your way to the second location.

Trying to break your way out of the trunk was useless, but you had to try. Your first idea was to break out the brake lights, but the car was far too expensive for it to be easy. 

It was hopeless. Your attempts only succeeded in exhausting you, leaving you weak and hopeless. Would Joe try to save you? Maybe he was tailing the car, staying far enough behind not to raise suspicion. The thought gave you a flicker of hope, enough to keep you going for a while.

“That’s the one that got away?” 

You were blinded, someone was shining a flashlight in your eyes. You didn’t dare try to escape the trunk, you knew these men were dangerous and had guns. Your plan was to wait for the right moment, whenever that may come. 

“It sure is. You know how many of our men are dead because of you?” A hand reached out and playfully slapped your cheek, you turned away from the touch and winced. “Five! You must be important to Joe.”

“I swear, I don’t know him.” Your babbling didn’t work in your favor, they just laughed, not believing a word you said.

You were moved from the trunk of the car to the shoulder of a rather large man. You didn’t bother struggling, it would only earn you pain in return. 

“What do you want to do with her?” The man carrying you asked your abductor, who was lighting a cigarette as he walked up a gravel driveway. You could see the rocks below you, but not where they led.

“What do we always do with the random pickups? The good looking ones, I mean?” His words made you nauseous again. How many others were there? 

They took you inside a house, a surprisingly large house. Your view of the place was upside down, but from what you gathered, whoever owned it was a wealthy individual. You caught glimpses of multiple chandeliers and countless expensive decorations on the way down the hall. 

How could such a pretty place hold such awful things? You knew what was hidden behind each door in the never-ending hallway. You weren’t stupid. 

You were thrown in the very last room at the end of the hallway. It was completely empty, no windows, no other way out. 

No way out.

The words echoed in your head as you paced around the unfurnished room, toying with your necklace as you hoped Joe would come for you. It was a sick twist of events, not an hour earlier you were trying to get away from Joe, and now, you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d rather see.

You were left alone for thirty minutes before the door opened, and the first thing you saw was a syringe.

“No, please, not that again.” You begged the woman who came to give you the dose. She was tall, blonde, in her late twenties maybe. She had a scar on her cheek that led down to her neck, along with multiple bruises on her upper arms. 

“It’s just a mild sedative so we can get you washed.” She kneeled down beside you on the wood floor, tilting your head up by your chin. Then she leaned in, whispering something that sent chills down your spine. “Please, if you struggle too much they’ll have to do it themselves, and then they’ll hurt me.” When she pulled back you saw her pleading with her eyes. They must hurt her badly.

“What are they going to do to me?” You whispered before she gently inserted the needle in your neck, she was much more pleasant than the last person who’d drugged you up, and far more experienced. You barely felt it.

She looked at you with pity, shaking her head. 

Who was she? Was she held there against her will, like you? What did they make her do? Question after question ran through your mind until you lost the ability to form coherent thoughts. 

You were bathed, fed, and allowed to sleep. It took so long for you to finally sleep, even with the sedative. Your hair was cold against your bare back, they’d taken your clothes but allowed you to keep your jewelry. So far you’d only seen women, which was a small comfort. They were much nicer, treating you with the only kindness you would receive there.

You dreamt of Joe that night.

The next day you were woken up by the same blonde woman with the scar. She was gentle, explaining that nothing would happen to you for a few days. They had to get you tested for any STDs first and get you on birth control, they couldn’t risk their precious clients contracting something from you. 

You learned the man who’d taken you was known as Luis, and most of his work concerned being the driver for random pick-ups. She didn’t tell you much else besides that, other than he wasn’t as dangerous as the other men.

“How many girls are here?” You asked as you put on the clothes she gave you, a simple light pink nightgown and a pair of underwear. 

She didn’t answer, only watched as you dressed yourself. For some reason, that made you angry. You turned to face her, suddenly hating how sweet and soft she looked. 

“How many girls? How many girls cry themselves to sleep here? How many mothers are at home doing the exact same?” You hadn’t meant for it to happen, she didn’t deserve your anger, but the more you thought about it, the angrier you got. You didn’t deserve this, no one did. You deserved to be at home, safe, wearing your own clothes and eating your own food. Before you knew it, you went off the rails, throwing things and screaming at the top of your lungs.

You hadn’t appreciated free will until then.

Eventually, the blonde woman left the room and two men had to come in and sedate you, they were much less gentle than she had been.


	5. Chapter 5

Finding you was the hardest thing Joe had ever had to do. Not only were there men everywhere, but you were on the first floor, arguably the most crowded and confusing area of the entire house. Even though security wasn’t as tough as the third floor, it was still a pain in the ass. The third floor was where the more expensive women were held, those of high status, like Nina. 

He had to kill five men just to get to you, using a scuba knife he’d found off one of the men of security. Through the neck was the easiest way, they couldn’t scream and they died fast. The only drawback was all the blood.

As he opened the doors to sedated girls sprawled out on beds, he couldn’t help but wonder how the universe could be so damn cruel. If he could he’d save them all. Later, when everything cooled off, he would tip off Donahue about all the girls. He didn’t trust the government, not after what happened with Nina. 

The last door on the left, there you were. 

The room was a mess. The blankets had been ripped off the bed and were strewn across the room, a vase had been thrown at one of the walls. 

Yet there you were, as peaceful as can be, lying on the floor with the softest expression on your face. You almost looked peaceful, Joe could have mistaken you for someone napping after a long day of work. 

He didn’t take time to admire you.

“(Y/N), can you hear me?” He squatted down next to you and lightly nudged your shoulder, earning a week moan. “It’s Joe.”

You could barely open your eyes, but when you did, your face changed.

“Joe,” You managed to mumble, the traces of a smile forming on your lips. “Thank you, I knew you’d come.” 

These were one of the very few instances Joe didn’t try to keep the tears back. He blinked them from his eyes and nodded at your words, using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the blood from around his mouth. He had nothing else to say so he picked you up bridal style, balancing you and the knife. 

The hardest part of a rescue was always escaping. Especially when the women were so drugged up they couldn’t walk on their own.

“What about the rest of them?” You swallowed the thick saliva in your mouth, struggling to get your words past your lips. “All the other girls?”

Joe peeked into the hallway before exiting the room. “Close your eyes.” He hushed you and stepped over the guard he’d killed outside your door. That was the most gruesome of them all, he had put up quite the fight and Joe had ended up planting his blade in the man’s left eye.

He was almost out the door when he saw her. The woman who’d been assigned to watch over you. She stood near the staircase moving a tray of food. It almost seemed like she was working at a hospital with the job she had, feeding the patients and administering their medication. It was sick. 

She looked over at him, her heart stopping for a moment. He was sure the sight to take in, a large burly man holding a limp girl in his arms, a bloody blade in hand, and not to mention the blood on  _ him _ . Beyond him lay a trail of bodies, all with gaping wounds in their throats. It was a bloodbath, something she’d never seen before. 

She’d seen awful things before. Women bruised and battered from the more aggressive clients, women shattered and crying, begging for their mothers. The worst of it had to be the women who didn’t care anymore, the ones with a glazed over look in their eyes who didn’t need to be sedated anymore because they had stopped struggling. The ones who’d lost their willpower.

Joe assumed the rest of the house was unaware of his presence, or else she wouldn’t have been standing there, going about her daily business as if nothing was wrong.

“Hurry.” Was all she whispered.

That was all he needed.

He slipped out of the house and started down the long walk to his car, he’d parked it a ways away so they wouldn’t see him pull up. 

How had it all gone so smoothly? After he had found you, that is. Getting to you was difficult, as he expected, but he left with no problems. It felt wrong. The walk through the woods to his car left him uneasy and his thoughts wandered to dark possibilities.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice broke him out of his heavy thoughts and he looked down to your face, taking a moment to breathe and ground himself. “I tried to leave. When you saved me that night, I tried to leave.”

“Anyone in their right mind would.” 

You were quiet again and the sound of leaves crunching underfoot filled the silence. 

“You thought it would be that easy?” 

The familiar click of a hammer being pulled back made Joe freeze. A split second after, the barrel of the gun was pressed against the back of his head. He’d been hiding behind a large tree, waiting for the perfect moment. 

His voice was familiar. Joe closed his eyes and thought of what to do, trying not to falter when he felt you tense up in his arms.

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble.” 

It clicked in Joe’s mind, hearing him speak the second time abled him to put a face to the voice. The same man who’d taken you away from him. His name was Luis, but Joe didn’t know that.

Slowly turning around to face him, Joe’s mind raced. His gun was in its holster, and setting you down would take too long. Maybe he could talk his way-

The man fired his gun, alarmed by Joe’s movements. 

Bright, blinding light, and then everything was silent. Then his ears started ringing. He couldn’t hear it over the deafness that the shot had caused but you were screaming, he had dropped you when the gun went off. 

The sedative had worn off enough so you could stand. “Joe!” You had shouted, over, and over. But he was too stunned. 

The bullet had gone right by his head. By some saving grace, it had narrowly missed him, leaving him with temporary deafness and shock. It felt like he stood there an hour after the gun went off, but in reality, his instincts had taken over and he had plunged the scuba knife in the man’s shoulder.

When he came back to his senses, he looked down to see you standing in front of him with blood covering your arms, his knife in your right hand. You looked like a deer in headlights. On the ground between you, Luis jerked as he bled out from a gut-wrenching cut on his neck. It had been sloppy considering the blade was jagged, meant for cutting rope and fishing line underwater. 

“His name was Luis.” The absurdity of your statement made Joe furrow his brows in confusion. Then he saw your face and realized you were in shock, you’d never killed anyone before. And there you stood, covered in blood, the murder weapon situated in your white-knuckle grip.

Joe looked you over and licked his lips, contemplating the situation. You’d been through so much in two days, it was no wonder you were struggling. “Luis?” He questioned, taking a cautious step towards you, not wanting to set you off. He remembered the first time he killed someone, he remembered it vividly. 

You nodded and looked down at his body. It was too much for you, your life had been so mundane before this, and now? Now you had been rescued from a brothel and had murdered someone on the same night. “I can’t go home, they know where I live, they know everything.”

“I know. Let’s just get out of here, then we can figure out the rest.” Joe said in the calmest voice he could muster, reaching out to take the knife from your hand. You gave it over without a fight, knowing it was best for him to have it.

The two of you made it back to his car without any more trouble. About twenty minutes down the road though, you broke down in sobs.

“What the fuck, Joe?” You sobbed into your hands, your tears wetting the blood that had long dried. “I was just walking home from work, why did this have to happen?”

Joe gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove back to his place, thinking of something to say. Comforting victims had never been something he was good at unless it was physical. He could stroke a girl's hair until she fell asleep with no problem, but say something that actually held value?

“That place is so fucked up, I wish I could just, fuck!” You cried, sucking in a shaky breath. “_Fuck_!”

“Hey, remember when you asked why I stopped?” 

You tried to remember what he was talking about, looking at him with a confused expression. “Stopped?” 

“I used to be a hired gun. You asked me why I stopped.” It was the only thing Joe could think of to take your mind off what had just happened.

You sniffed as you remembered, your sobs quieting down. “Yeah, I remember now.”

Joe chewed on the inside of his cheek, taking a left turn into the city. “Well, I was hired to save this girl. She was the last one before I quit. The men who had taken her found out where I lived, and they…” He trailed off, fighting for the words. Was he truly about to tell you about what had happened? 

He was.

“They killed my mother.”

You had stopped crying by then, the weight of his words heavy on your chest. 

When you didn’t respond, he continued. “They waited there, in my house, for me. After that, I stopped. I’ve been through a lot of things, seen a lot of things, but that?” He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “After I made sure Nina, that was the girl I was after, after I made sure she was safe, I stopped. I moved, changed my name, cut ties with everyone.”

“I’m sorry I pulled you back into it.” You apologized, wiping the tears on your cheek with the back of your hand. 

“No, don’t.” Joe groaned, hating the direction you had taken the conversation. “Don’t. You didn’t pull me back into anything.” He was nearing his place now, slowly pressing the tip of his boot down on the brake. 

Once inside, he fixed you a glass of water and instructed you to wait while he got his stuff together. 

You sat in the living room downstairs and drank the water. You could hear him upstairs moving stuff around, whatever he was moving was heavy, thudding against the floor a few times.

A light meow brought your eyes to the bathroom door. He had a cat?

Deciding it wouldn’t do any harm, you went to investigate.

“Oh, yeah. The cat.” Joe’s voice sounded from behind you as you opened the bathroom door, revealing the tiniest kitten. It was the one they’d used to lure you away, you recognized it immediately and felt your heart drop. “I couldn’t just leave it there.”

Your eyes went around the bathroom, and you smiled softly when you saw the things he’d bought for it. Food, toys, and it had a flea collar around its neck. 

“Did you give it a name?” You asked and leaned down into a squat, reaching out towards the kitten. It sniffed your fingers hesitantly before meowing again, letting you know it was hungry. 

“No.” He answered as the sudden realization dawned on him. He simply didn’t think about it. 

After Joe packed his things and you fed the cat, you began thinking of your next step. You didn’t want to go home. They could be there. You didn’t have anything there you needed to get, you were wearing your most sentimental jewelry. 

“What now?” You asked as you helped him load up the car. The kitten was in the backseat eating a can of wet cat food, waiting patiently for its name.

Joe shut the trunk and shrugged, pausing for a moment beside you. He looked at you with a strange smile, you couldn’t help but smile back and raise your brows.

“What?” You asked when he still didn’t speak, trying not to let that smile overtake you. He was beautiful. You hadn’t noticed that until that very moment. Joe was absolutely beautiful.

He thought it was ironic. If he had killed himself that evening then he wouldn’t have been able to save you, and the kitten would still be in the cold metal cage, waiting to lure more innocent women into their own traps. 

“We should name her Nina.”

You smiled again, giving him a shrug and a nod. “Okay, yeah. Let’s name her Nina.”


End file.
